


Tempest

by Magnetism_bind



Series: The Kissing!Verse [2]
Category: Black Sails
Genre: Apologies, Dying for a kiss, First Time, Flint does too but guess who won't admit it, Guilt, Intimacy, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Mutual Pining, Poetry, Relationship Issues, Sequel, Silver just wants a fucking kiss, Wall Sex, how to be gentle
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-02
Updated: 2017-05-02
Packaged: 2018-10-26 20:17:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,505
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10794021
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Magnetism_bind/pseuds/Magnetism_bind
Summary: Tempest:a violent wind or storma violent commotion, disturbance, or tumultto agitate or disturb violentlyFlint can't stop thinking about Silver's mouth.





	Tempest

Flint can't stop thinking about Silver's mouth. He thinks about it when he should be thinking about other things, when he should be focused on other things. But somehow no matter what he's doing he can't help seeing Silver on the edge of his vision, always there on the peripheral, taunting him with that mouth.

His mouth. Oh god. Just the memory of the feel of it makes Flint bite the inside of his cheek in frustrated want. 

_"Just doing my duty."_

That's what stops Flint from claiming the kiss he wants so badly.

That first moment when he realized what Silver was doing outweighs the later one when he let himself give in, let Silver finish what he had started. He can’t kiss Silver. He should never have let himself be swayed by Silver’s words, never should have let Silver suck his cock. But he _had_ , and now his body is somehow aflame, alive.

He looks for Silver whenever he’s on deck, distracted by his mere presence. Too often Silver’s elsewhere entirely, but there are times Flint catches him leaning against the railing, gazing out over the horizon. Flint takes to staying in his cabin as much as possible because it’s too distracting, too infuriating, too arousing…The situation is ridiculous. He should put Silver off the ship as soon as they’re back at Nassau.

*  *  *

There’s a knock at the door and Flint’s startled out of his concentration.

“What?” He barks.

The door opens and he’s pained to see Silver standing there with a bowl in his hand.

“What do you want?” Flint returns his gaze to his maps, inwardly cursing himself for the repetition of what he said that first evening. He can still hear Silver going. “You. Specifically, your cock.”

”You didn’t come down to the galley for mess.”

“Because I’m busy.” Flint doesn’t look up.

Silver approaches the desk. “You still need to eat.”

“Are you presuming to give me orders?” Flint snaps.

“Hardly. Just a friendly suggestion.” Silver holds out the a bowl of bread and meat.

Flint just looks at it and then without meaning to, he glances at Silver’s mouth. It curves into a smile, causing Flint’s own mouth to thin to a hard severe line.

“Leave it and go.” Flint says then.

“As you like.” Silver says easily. He sets the bowl on the side of the map. “Don’t worry. Randall cooked the meat.”

Flint lets out a bark of laughter that surprises both of them.

“Good.” He says finally. Silver’s still just standing there. “So you can go now.”

“I know I can.” Silver smiles lightly. He doesn’t move.

“Then why are you still here?”

“I thought you might want some company.” There’s no innuendo for once, just a suggestion, and it sounds almost pleasant. Flint’s used to being alone; he prefers it. But from time to time he hopes for companionship. He misses Gates.

He waits and then when Silver doesn’t speak, he asks, “Are you going to talk?”

“Would you like me to talk?” Silver’s glancing around the cabin, not looking at Flint. That makes it easier. Easier to have him here, easier to gaze at him.

“Go ahead.” He looks back at the map, even if Flint's no longer sure what he was looking at it for.

“What would you like me to talk about?”

“What are you going to do with your share of the treasure?” He likes to know what people want; not because he’s interested, but because it helps you know someone to know their pursuits, what their aims were.

“I’d go far away from the sea and buy a house.” Silver says absently.

“A…house?” Flint repeats, not sure if he heard him, not sure if Silver is joking. What would Silver want with a house?

“A nice house with a large comfortable bed.” Silver murmurs, almost dreamily.

Flint sits back in his chair. “What else would you have in this house?” This is a different side of Silver and he can’t help being intrigued by it.

“A broad open kitchen. I’d hire a cook.” Silver adds, a brief flash of a grin on his lips. “And there would be a lawn, or a garden, something lush and green for miles. And in the mornings, I’d sit out there and just…” He drifts off, suddenly self-conscious.

“What else?” Flint prods.

“A bath tub.” Silver tells him. “Something big enough that I can stretch out and relax in.”

Just the thought of it makes Flint’s body nearly relax. It’s been a long time. That would ease the tension from his body. God, how he just _aches_ all over. It never ends. He’s grown accustomed to his body and mind operating in high-level stress. It’s the only way he knows how to live these days. There are moments of peace, but it’s been a long time since Flint’s found one.

“I miss baths.” Silver murmurs.

Flint casts a surreptitious look over his form as Silver turns away to look at his bookshelf. His gaze drifts lower to Silver’s backside and then abruptly it’s confronted with his groin as Silver turns back around. Flint jerks his gaze upright and finds Silver grinning at him.

“Thinking about me in the bath, Captain?” He asks casually.

“Hardly. Though you could use one.” Flint turns back to his map. Without thinking about it, he takes a piece of meat from the bowl and starts to chew it.

“What are you going to do?”

Flint raises his eyes. “Pardon?”

“With your share of the treasure?”

Flint frowns. No one has ever asked him that; anyone who knows him well enough (Gates, Eleanor, Miranda…) already know why he’s been pursuing this. He’s never had to explain himself to anyone else.

Silver’s waiting. Flint doesn’t know what to make of this. The bold, albeit misguided young liar who strolled through the door and sucked his cock contrasted with the quiet curiously flirtatious man before him. He’s intriguing; Flint doesn’t _want_ to be intrigued.

“Do you think this part of your duty?” Flint sneers. “Finding out where your captain’s interests lie?”

“I already know where my captain’s interests lie.” Silver says. “I was merely curious and making conversation, as we’re in pursuit of a treasure that could very well change the course of a man’s life.”

Flint goes back to the first part of that. “What makes you think you know where my interests lie?”

Silver grins. “You came in my mouth, remember?”

Flint pushes away from the desk and he’s pleased to see how Silver anticipates his movements and moves with him, his body wary of Flint’s as they face each other.

“What of it?” Flint makes his words dismissive as possible. Whatever Silver’s playing at, whatever goal he thinks he can achieve by playing to the captain’s favor, it’s not going to work here. Even if his lips look delectable and Flint can’t forget the taste of his come.

As though he can somehow read Flint’s mind, Silver says, “You also licked my come from your palm.”

Flint’s all the way around the desk before Silver can move, grabbing his shirt and hauling him in close. “Whatever game you’re playing, you can forget it.” Up close he can smell Silver, and it’s driving him wild, cock hardening thickly in his breeches. Silver’s mouth has no right to look that good. Flint wants to claim his mouth. He remembers how it feels on his cock, but he’s aching for it on his lips.

“I thought we’d established I’m not playing any game.” Silver’s voice is remarkably steady considering Flint’s got his fist clenched in his shirt.

“Then what are you doing?” Flint hisses. “You expect me to believe that?”

To his shock Silver sticks his knee between Flint’s thighs, nudging his hardness. “You expect _me_ to believe this isn’t because of my mouth?”

He sounds so smug, so certain. Flint tightens his grip, ignores the heat from Silver’s knee against him. “Maybe the thought of killing you arouses me.” Flint says softly, letting the words ghost over Silver’s cheek.

Silver reacts visibly, biting his lip as his cheeks pale. Whatever he’s up to, it’s true he’s not unaffected by this either. He swallows, the hollow of his throat deepens slightly and his eyes are so very steady as he gazes back at Flint.

“That would be unfortunate if it were the case as I have every intention of remaining alive as long as possible.” He licks his reddened lips and Flint watches his mouth, drinking in the sight of it. “However, bearing that in mind…”

“What?”

“I’m not wrong, am I?” Silver breathes. “You’re hard because of me.” He presses his knee harder against Flint’s cock, and it takes all of Flint’s self-control not to surrender a groan at the sensation.

“What are you doing?” Flint asks and if his voice is tight and irritated to his own ears, then Silver probably notices it too. “We’re finished with what we started. It’s done.”

Silver laughs and it licks over Flint’s cheek like a caress. “And you honestly tell me you don’t want more after that?”

“More.” Flint repeats. “What more?”

“Well?” Silver glances downward. “You seem to have one idea. Admittedly, I had another but...” He shrugs. “I’m open to suggestions.”

“What?” Flint starts to say and then momentarily he’s distracted by another thought. “Hang on…you’d never sucked anyone off before.”

“That’s right.”

“And you come in here again, and think you can get me to fuck you just like that.”

Silver’s eyes widen imperceptibly and his lips part and somehow Flint realizes he’s managed to surprise and arouse him all at once.

“If I’m honest,” Silver murmurs. “My ambitions weren’t that high.”

Flint’s torn between two very pressing questions. “You’ve never been fucked either, am I correct?” He half wants Silver to say he has, that he knows what he’s doing.

“No.”

“Then what the fuck are you doing?” He shouldn’t be anyone’s first time; he’s not good enough for that, not patient, not kind, not anything for anyone, but especially not Silver.

“I told you.” Silver begins, inadvertently leaning forward, and causing his knee to press even more against Flint. “I had no aim in that direction.”

“Then what did you want?”” Flint’s brow furrows in confusion.

Inexplicably Silver flushes and Flint’s fascinated. What could he have wanted if not that?

“A kiss.” Silver whispers, so lightly Flint leans in to catch the words, practically caressing Silver’s knee between his thighs.

“A kiss.” He repeats.

“Yes.” Silver drops his gaze finally. “Usually I get a kiss from people whose hands have been on me.”

“And whose cocks have been in your mouth?”

“Well, I started a new precedent there, to be sure,” Silver grins. “But I would like a kiss all the same.”

“You want me to kiss you?” Flint says uncertainly.

“Is that really so unusual after what we’ve done to each other? After what we’ve been to each other?”

“There is no _we_.” Flint growls. He pushes Silver away angrily. “Get that through your thick head and get out.”

He’d spoken of fucking Silver, that’s where his thoughts had gone. Silver, who had never even touched another man, never touched a man’s cock before Flint, had been thinking of something more pure. Shame, hot and malignant, courses bitterly through Flint

 “You licked.” Silver begins and Flint’s had enough. He grabs him by the shirt, slams him hard against the desk, making Silver wince in pain.

“Don’t speak of that night. Don’t speak of what you saw. Don’t fucking speak.”

Silver swallows tightly. There’s fear in his eyes and perversely Flint is both pleased and disappointed at that.

“You were thinking of fucking me, but you won’t kiss me?” Silver’s lip curls. “Anyone would think you’re afraid.”

“You don’t know anything about me.” Flint snarls.

“I know how your come tastes.” Silver murmurs. “I’d like to say the same of your lips.”

Flint grips his jaw, the anger pulsing in him, scorching and raging like wildfire, how dare Silver come into his cabin and make him _want._

Because he wants that too. He wants to kiss Silver, wants to sink into the heat of his mouth and hear him moan from it. He wants to know Silver’s tongue in the intimacy of a kiss. But if he kisses Silver, that’s the trouble, that’s _more_. More intimate than a hand on his cock, more personal. It’s a matter of mutual yearning, wanting, desire. He can’t give this to Silver, who may be a liar and a thief, but he still deserves a lover who would take the proper care for him.

His anger fades in a rush, leaving Flint cold and weary and done. ”Just…go.” His hands leave Silver and he turns his back. He wants to sleep and not dream. He wants peace, a rest from this eternal roaring in his mind.

“Are you all right?”

Flint blinks, feeling his focus return to himself. He glances over his shoulder. Silver’s still standing there, looking at him with something akin to concern.

“Why do you want a kiss?” Flint finally asks.

It’s Silver’s turn to blink. “I don’t want just any kiss. I could get any kiss, I’ve gotten kisses.” He leans forward, looking at Flint. “I want a kiss from _you._ I want to know how _you_ taste. I want the feel of _your_ lips.” His eyes drift to Flint’s mouth. “I want to kiss you.” He says simply.

Flint just gazes at him. “Why?” He knows why other people have kissed him in the past, but they loved him, this isn’t the same thing at all.

Silver looks as though he could laugh. “Do you truly not know?” There’s a wonder in his eyes and it would be so easy to sweep him up and crush his mouth under Flint’s own.

“I’d fuck you.” Flint says coolly. “But I won’t kiss you.” There, that will get Silver out of his cabin and away from him. He’s almost sorry. Almost.

“All right.” Silver says after a moment. “Let’s start there.”

Flint just stares at him. “You’d honestly let me fuck you when I won’t even kiss you?”

“All I see is a man who has an interesting sense of personal priorities and I’m intrigued.”

“You’ve never been fucked before.” Flint reminds him, reminding himself too.

“I know.” Silver shrugs. “You’d be my first.” He says it so simply, like it’s just a fact. Flint will be his first.

And as terrifying as that is, abruptly Flint wants it too. With cool and utterly astonishing clarity, he wants to leave his mark on Silver.

He leans in. “Take your breeches down.”

“Just like that?”

“If you want poetry before I stick my cock in your ass, look somewhere else.”

“Somehow you don’t seem like the poetry type.” Silver murmurs.

It catches Flint off-guard and it stings frankly. He’s never thought so either but when you read a poem and it strikes you, catches at your heart, you get caught up in the rhythm of it. He had once recited a poem drunkenly at Thomas, who had stared at him in surprise and then kissed him passionately in return. Some people appreciated poetry.

He moves over from the desk and goes to the bookshelf, selects a book, finds the page he’s looking for and opens it. He clears his throat and reads. 

 _Like as the waves make towards the pebbled shore,_  
_So do our minutes hasten to their end;_  
_Each changing place with that which goes before,_  
_In sequent toil all forwards do contend._  
_Nativity, once in the main of light,_  
_Crawls to maturity, wherewith being crown'd,_  
_Crooked eclipses 'gainst his glory fight,_  
_And Time, that gave, doth now his gift confound_.

Silver just stares at him. “What was that?”

“Part of a sonnet, by William Shakespeare.” Flint says gruffly.

“I thought you said you weren’t going to give me poetry before we fuck.”

“Oh, shut up.” Flint puts the book back. He regrets ever taking it off the shelf.

When he turns round, Silver’s taken off his breeches and is standing there with his shirt to his thighs.

How is this the same brash young cook who bluffed his way aboard his ship, who sucked Flint’s cock for fuck’s sake? Flint’s angry with Silver, for the fact that he wants him and angrier too that he keeps remembering Thomas and how good Thomas was, how patient with their first awkward fumbling.

“Come here.” Flint says.

Silver approaches him with trepidation. Flint grips the back of his neck, smoothing those dark curls out of the way, watching the way his fingers look on Silver’s skin.

He nods at the cabin wall. “Face it, brace yourself.”

Silver’s pulse flutters in his throat, but he does.

Flint reaches for the oil in his lantern. “Spread your legs.” he directs. He presses a finger between Silver’s legs, seeking the velvet heat there, soft and tight and tense. “Relax.”

“I’m trying.” Silver mutters. His palms are flat against the wall, his legs spread.

Flint sighs softly and then he leans in, and sucks wetly at the back of Silver’s neck. It’s not a kiss; it’s a graze, a murmur of a bite. It’s all he can do.

Silver gasps and presses back against him. “Do that again.”

Flint runs his hand through his hair and sucks at his neck again, this time with a little more teeth. This time Silver moans. His body relaxes so Flint does it again and then he eases a finger inside him. Silver presses against it immediately.

“More.”

“Patience.” Flint murmurs against his neck. He likes commanding Silver in this manner, likes having him here like this. He presses further, feeling Silver adjust and open to him, and then he strokes him.

He licks across one of the spots he sucked at and Silver clenches down hotly around him.

“Fuck.” Silver moans, pressing back against him. “More, damn it.”

Flint pushes another finger, slick and strong inside him, until his fingers make Silver gasp. Half of him wants it to be too much, for Silver to call it off, the other half of him is hardening at the thought of being inside him.

“More.” Silver’s voice is throaty. He sounds like he all he wants is Flint’s cock, like he’s dying for it.

Flint pulls his fingers out.

Silver looks over his shoulder. “What’re you doing? Why’d you stop?”

“I was intending to slick my cock.” Flint says. He intends for it to be biting, but Silver looks wrecked with desire already and Flint hasn’t even fucked him yet.

He licks his lips, his eyes automatically going to Silver’s mouth. He’s been biting his lips, making them fuller, redder, wanting, practically begging Flint to kiss him, to sink his teeth into that tender lower lip and make Silver yelp.

If he bites it, it’s not technically kissing, not theoretically.

“Captain?”

Flint drifts back into the present, aware that his cock is hard and ready. He presses against Silver’s ass, rubbing against his cleft.

Silver gazes at him over his shoulder. “Are you going to fuck me or what?”

He had been intending to do it from behind, thinking it would be easier, both on Silver and on him, if he didn’t have to look at Silver’s mouth.

Now he wants to see Silver come undone. “Turn around.”

Silver does but now there’s the trepidation again. “Why?”

“I want to see your face when I fuck you.” It’s meant...Flint doesn’t know how he means it, it’s not as harsh as it sounds and not as possessive either. But there’s an answering look in Silver’s eyes as he faces him without speaking. Flint just grips and lifts him, bracing him against the wall.

“ _Fuck_.” Silver’s left arm slings over his shoulder and then Flint just eases him down on his cock, just holding Silver there against the wall.

Silver stares at him with a dazed look.

“Too much?” Flint inquires, though only the tip of his cock is in. He waits, desperate to move, desperate to be all the way inside Silver, but he waits because Silver hasn’t spoken yet, and he needs Silver to speak.

“Not enough.” Silver’s arm moves further over his shoulder, gripping his back.

Flint waits. And at last Silver understands.

“Move.” He breathes. “Please, for the love of fuck, move.”

Flint’s grip tightens as he holds Silver more solidly. And then he thrusts.

It has been an eternity so Flint only remembers his couplings with Thomas in a haze of emotions. At times he can hardly bear to think of them, and others he draws them out to look over and to remember intentionally, even if it hurts.

Silver, _god,_ Flint almost closes his eyes as he moves in measured, pounding thrusts. Silver’s meant for him, meant for this. He’s exquisite and glorious, wrapping around Flint like he’s molten silk.

Silver hooks his legs around Flint’s hips, drawing him closer. His breath is coming harsh and fast as Flint fucks him. He has one hand gripping the wall over his head, he lets the other one tighten on Flint’s back, nails digging bluntly through Flint's shirt.

It would be so easy to kiss him. Flint can taste it, he can imagine, he _wants_ to, but he can’t let himself give that to Silver.

Flint gazes at him and then he catches a handful of Silver’s glorious hair, tugging it back, baring his throat and he sinks his teeth into Silver's neck. Silver fucking shouts, clenching around him as he shoots over Flint’s belly.

Flint manages a few more thrusts but Silver’s honest pleasure, his body panting and warm against Flint’s own, his cock still quivering pressed between them, draws him over and he’s _gone_ , spilling inside Silver with a muffled groan. It has been so very long, that he almost doesn't remember how this satisfaction feels, so foreign it is to his body. And then he draws a breath and realizes, his mind has gone blissfully quiet. Flint rests his head against Silver’s hair for a moment, letting himself bask in the peace, and then he draws a little back, studying Silver.

Silver leans his head back against the wall, just gazing at him. His eyes are sated and peaceful. And his neck…

_Fuck._

Flint has left his mark all right, several in fact. Wide and red and leaving no doubt what happened here tonight. He brushes a thumb over one of the marks and Silver shivers in contentment.

Flint looks down between them at his cock. “You came without me touching you.”

“I wouldn’t say that.” Silver murmurs.

Flint raises an eyebrow.

Silver raises it right back at him. “You’re touching me right now.” Silver points out, wiggling his ass slightly around Flint.

Flint exhales, cock still sensitive. He pulls out of Silver and lets him down.

“There.” It’s done. Now Silver can go and maybe, just maybe, Flint can hold on to this brief moment of peace.

Silver’s still just standing there, half nude, looking at him. “Is it always like that?”

“Like what?”

“With men?”

“What?” Flint’s not understanding him at all.

“That _good_?” Silver looks exasperated. “You have to know how good that was. Even you have to know that.”

“Even me.” Flint repeats with a slightly amused pang. His crew doesn’t even think he’s capable of recognizing a good fuck when he has one.

“I didn’t mean…” Silver pushes his fingers through his curls. “But is it always that good?”

Flint’s stumped at the question. In his experience, yes. But he’s only known Thomas. He knows other men have known different experiences, ranging from terrible to disappointing to lackluster.

“It should be. If he cares for you.” He murmurs. At Silver’s expression he hears what he said. “ _Takes_ care with you.” Flint amends, but it’s too late. Silver’s smirking at him like Flint’s told him something meaningful, like it matters what they’ve done when he’d been with Thomas before now.

He’d only been with Thomas. A wave of longing and misery and disgust hits Flint like a boulder crushing him. He’s ruined that, for a man not worthy of licking Thomas’s boots.

“Get out.”

“What?” Silver blinks.

“ _Get._ _Out_.” Flint wants to tear the world apart with his bare hands. He wants to destroy everything in his sight. All he has left are his memories of Thomas and now he’s tainted them with the stain of this.

Silver flinches and hurriedly scrambles for his breeches. The sight of his bare thighs drives Flint to even wilder anger.

“What is it?” Silver asks. “What did I say?”

“Get the fuck out.” Flint roars and Silver does, practically running for the door.

Flint flings the window open and vomits over the side of the ship, until he’s empty of the bile churning inside him. Leaning back, he gasps and wipes his mouth. He closes his eyes, sinking down upon the cabin floor. What has he done? What the fuck has he done?

 *  *  *

Later Flint remembers how he shouted at Silver and there’s guilt over that too. It’s not Silver’s fault and now Flint has more than fucked up his first time. He shouldn’t allow himself to even be near people. He should stay away from and not touch them.

But he owes Silver an apology so the next morning he sends Dufresne to fetch him and he waits, drumming his fingers restlessly on his desk.

There’s a hesitant knock and Silver slips inside cautiously inside the cabin. “You wanted to see me?”

“Yes.” Flint’s tongue-tied in the face of him. Yesterday’s memories strike him like a cannon blast. “ _You have to know how good that was. Even you have to know that.”_ And it had been good. Thomas would be disappointed in him for denying it, even to himself.

“I wanted…to apologize for yesterday.”

Silver looks at him and then around the cabin like he expects to see someone else. “Are you speaking to me?”

“Don’t be a shit.”

“I’m sorry…was that apology sincere?”

Flint grits his teeth. “Yes.” He faces Silver. “That wasn't anything to do with you. As to your question, being with someone… It should be that good. It should be with a partner,” his voice lowers as he speaks the word, speaking it almost gently, “who cares enough to make sure you’re treated well, that you're... treasured.”

Silver’s just gazing at him with an unreadable expression.

“That’s how it should be.” Flint says. “And what you should look for in the future.” 

“Right.” Silver doesn’t sound reassured of anything, and then he says. “So that’s it?”

“That’s it. You can go.” Flint keeps his gaze fixed determinedly on his captain’s log as Silver turns back towards the door.

From the doorway Silver's voice drifts lazily back to him. "I still want that kiss."

Flint doesn’t look up, doesn’t face him. “Keep wanting.”

He hears Silver laugh and then the door closes. 

**Author's Note:**

> The sonnet Flint quotes is Sonnet 60.
> 
> Like as the waves make towards the pebbled shore,  
> So do our minutes hasten to their end;  
> Each changing place with that which goes before,  
> In sequent toil all forwards do contend.  
> Nativity, once in the main of light,  
> Crawls to maturity, wherewith being crown'd,  
> Crooked eclipses 'gainst his glory fight,  
> And Time, that gave, doth now his gift confound.  
> Time doth transfix the flourish set on youth,  
> And delves the parallels in beauty's brow,  
> Feeds on the rarities of nature's truth,  
> And nothing stands but for his scythe to mow.  
> And yet to times in hope my verse shall stand,  
> Praising thy worth, despite his cruel hand.


End file.
